


Locked Down: The Dramione Edition

by LashesToAshes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Substance Abuse, Unplanned Pregnancy, lockdown - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 06:42:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LashesToAshes/pseuds/LashesToAshes
Summary: A collection of drabble-esque sequences starting in Hogwarts showing snippets of Draco and Hermione's friendship as it develops into a relationship, before their world is turned upside following the snap decision to move in together when the Ministry announces a full scale lockdown.Merlin be damned Death Eaters and their virus...
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Locked Down: The Dramione Edition

**Author's Note:**

> TW: mentions of heavy potion use, addiction to sleeping potions, use of pain potion for recreational purposes. This is only shown in chapter one.
> 
> What started as a few little drabbles and snowballed into almost 30k - whoops! This is meant to be a light hearted semi story showing how Draco and Hermione's relationship develops over the years (poking a teeny bit of fun at myself along the way for shipping them so hard) before it shifts during a Ministry mandated lockdown. I wonder where that idea came from?!
> 
> I've tried to use real life scenarios where living with someone else in such close quarters can be eye-opening to say the least!
> 
> This is 90% written and will update as and when I remember!
> 
> Alpha/beta love to TriDogMom as always!

It was quiet, blissfully so.

Staring up at the ceiling from her reclined position on the sofa, Hermione contemplated her decision to come back to Hogwarts for her eighth year. She felt... indifferent to be back. The naive hope that returning to education would bring back her fire, her sense of self was all but burnt out. 

Every corner contained a ghost, a battle scar. Even here, in one of the many Phoenix rooms created to give them a safe space. Hermione couldn’t ignore the irony that the very rooms meant to bring solace only reminded her more of the war. The words  _ from the ashes we rise _ taunted her, what of those who were just that, ash? They couldn’t rise.

The creak of the door disrupted her dark spiral, craning her neck and peering over the back of the chair, Hermione was surprised to see a shock of blonde hair. It was rare to see Malfoy outside of classes. 

“I can leave,” he offered, meeting her gaze.

Before she could think about it, Hermione answered, “stay.”

With a nod, Draco took a seat across the room, leaning back into his own chair and closing his eyes. As his silence continued, Hermione settled back against the cushions and willed herself to relax. With her eyes closed, the dark thoughts she had been battling, regained control. 

“Do you ever wonder,” Hermione muttered aloud, resting her hands across her chest as she spoke, “if there was one simple event that could have changed what happened last year?”

Hearing no answer, not that she expected one anyway, Hermione continued, “sometimes I do. What if Harry’s wand had snapped in our first year with the troll or in second year when they crashed into the Whomping Willow? He would have got a new one, and then  _ Priori Incantatem _ wouldn’t have happened in the graveyard, allowing Harry to get away.”

“Or,” Hermione pondered, uninterrupted, “what if you hadn’t been at the Manor, that day, someone else would have identified us. One stinging jinx was hardly enough to make Harry unrecgonisable. Ron and I weren’t disguised. We could have all died, or just one of us, perhaps me? Bellatrix certainly wanted me dead. I could  _ feel _ it. Her hate burned into my bones, scorched my dirty Mudblood…”

“Stop it,” Draco spoke firmly, unable to take anymore. 

Hermione turned, her eyes raking over Draco’s rigid form, his hands were clenched around the arms of the chair, white knuckled. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, coming to her senses and realising he too must have seen unimaginable things. 

“Granger,” Draco replied, his voice firm, “I should be apologising. The things I said to you, the way I treated  _ everyone _ , horrifies me when I look back.”

“Well,” Hermione said flatly, “hindsight is twenty twenty.”

“Isn’t it just,” Draco answered, his tone bitter as he too contemplated how one little thing could have changed their history, “did you say something about a troll in first year?”

In spite of herself, Hermione let out a snort of laughter, “Harry and Ron locked the troll in the girls bathroom, not knowing I was in there. You remember that night at the Halloween feast, with Professor Quirrell? When they heard me scream they came back, somehow we fought the troll and Harry’s wand ended up shoved in its nose.”

Draco chuckled, his first in a very long time, as he imagined the three young Gryffindors fighting a full grown troll. 

That was the beginning of their tentative friendship, stories were shared, grief lessened and the weight of the war began to finally lift. 

*

“These rooms are fairly ostracising, don’t you think?”

“How so?” her usually quiet companion queried.

“Well,” Hermione continued, staring at the Phoenix insignia, “I associate the Phoenix with the Order, and Dumbledore, it almost feels welcoming. But what of everyone else? You surely can’t have happy memories when you think of the Order.”

Draco pondered it for a moment, “I did avoid these rooms in the beginning, I didn’t feel like I deserved a safe place after everything I did, nor did I want to disturb someone who was using these rooms because of me, my family, our actions.”

“My point exactly. Regardless of which side we were on, we all need help, we were  _ all _ too young.”

*

Hermione sat on the cold stone floor of the second floor girls lavatory, brewing her hybrid sleep potion. It felt strange to be back using the same bathroom to brew another illegal potion but needs must. And Hermione needed to sleep.

Despite having spoken to Madam Pomfrey and seeing a mind Healer frequently, Hermione just couldn’t shake the fog left from the war. Yes, she had been prescribed potions to help her sleep but they weren’t strong enough.

No matter what she said to Madam Pomfrey the medi-witch refused to prescribe her anything stronger, instead advising her to work through her issues, trust time to help with her healing. But what they didn’t realise was that she had things she needed to do.

How was she supposed to finish school when she couldn’t get enough sleep to focus? Her classes were difficult enough without her brain battling with sleep deprivation. 

Stirring the potion three times counter-clockwise Hermione added in the final ingredient and reduced the blue flame beneath the cauldron to a gentle heat to complete the potion. It was risky combining Calming Draught and Draught of Living Death but she had to do something, she couldn’t continue the way she was currently. 

Siphoning her potion into separate vials, Hermione stood from the floor and began tidying up her work space. If this worked, she would need to find a more permanent location to brew. 

*

It was Christmas. 

Snow blanketed the Hogwarts grounds and the usual twelve Christmas trees illuminated the Great Hall, everything seemed so familiar yet it didn’t bring him any warmth. 

Draco wasn’t missing Christmas at the Manor. Not one bit. He had rolled out of bed when he fancied it, nipped to the kitchens for a late breakfast and then made his way out through the grounds to the Black Lake. 

Braced against the cold wind, Draco tried to understand the feeling blooming within him. Part of him was longing for the innocence of his youth, missing that one Christmas he had stayed at school and celebrated with his friends; they’d left the feast early and returned to the common room, playing games and gorging themselves on sweets they had bought in Hogsmeade the prior weekend, it had been perfect.

He was doing his best to ignore that part of him that craved company. The need to share his thoughts with someone who understood what it was like to be him. Disowned. Alone. Lonely.

Shaking off his melancholy, he stood and headed back to the castle, switching his brain off and allowing his feet to carry him somewhere. 

Stopping a short while later, Draco stood before a familiar door, unsurprised that his feet had led him there. Only, instead of the Phoenix that had been engraved upon the door, there was now a rune. If Draco didn’t know better, he’d say it was a crudely drawn N but having taken Ancient Runes this year, he recognised it as the rune  _ Uruz _ . 

Uruz was typically associated with survival, endurance and life force. Which made sense for these rooms, somehow they’d all survived, they just need to learn how to live again. 

Pushing the door open, Draco was surprised at the transformation that had occurred inside. The main room, which had been painted a deep red colour, was now a neutral stone and the smaller Phoenix rooms which joined the main room had been re-named. 

His eye jumped from the Janus room, to the Persephone room and then to the Baldur room. These names he knew, the gods and goddess of rebirth from the Roman, Greek and Norse cultures. Looking around his eyes landed on Khepri which looked to be Egypitan and then Shiva who he vaguely remembered being Hindu as well as a few more he didn’t recognise. 

Among the named rooms, were two doors engraved with the Hogwarts crest. Not being a man of faith, he had been taught to only believe in the Malfoy name afterall, Draco walked forward and pushed open the closest door, stopping short when he saw Granger— again.

“Did you do this?”

Looking up from her book, Hermione nodded and waved Draco in.

“Why?” Draco asked, dropping into the window seat across the room from her.

“It feels more inclusive,” she answered easily, her eyes not leaving the page, “don’t you think?”

“I guess so?” Draco replied, confused but understanding her logic at the same time.

As they settled into a companionable silence, Draco felt that strange tightness in his chest loosen for the first time since returning to school.

*

“Oh my god,” a third year stuttered as Hermione and Draco passed them in the corridor, “it’s  _ Dramione _ ! And look! He’s carrying her books!”

“For goodness sake,” Hermione muttered, turning to Draco as they passed the giggling group of girls, “are they still doing this?”

“Apparently,” Draco drawled, opening the door for Hermione and allowing her to step into the classroom ahead of him, “we are  _ the _ topic of conversation. Reformed Death Eater steals Golden Girls heart.”

“But we’re not even dating,” Hermione said, rummaging through her bag as Draco placed it on the desk in front of her, “I don’t know why they think we’re dating.”

“You two do spend an awful lot of time together,” Ginny teased, sitting at the desk in front of theirs. 

“We take the same classes!” Hermione exclaimed, sitting down next to Draco and arranging her book, quill and parchment ready for the lesson.

“And, I’m the only one smart enough to keep her on her toes,” Draco commented, earning himself a glare from Ginny.

“Technically,” Theo drawled, joining in as he sat beside Ginny, “I’m smarter than you, you just monopolise all of Granger’s time.”

“I do not,” Draco retorted hotly, slamming his book down as Theo continued.

“I haven’t seen you in the common room all week! And you missed poker night…” 

“We were finishing up the Transfiguration essay that’s due today,” Hermione replied, smirking as Theo paled.

“That’s due today?”

“Right now, in fact,” Draco drawled, pulling his own complete essay out of his bag as Professor McGonagall appeared at their desk.

“Thank you, Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said, moving onto Ginny and Theo’s desk, “Miss Wealsey? Mr Nott?”

“Here Professor,” Ginny answered, handing her essay over grinning as Theo fumbled through his bag.

“Mr Nott?” she asked again, her lips thinning as Theo sat there empty handed.

“Would you believe me if I said it was still in my room?” Theo asked, a little sheepishly. 

“I would not,” Professor McGonagall answered, fixing Theo with a look, “you have until dinner to get your essay to me.”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Idiot,” Draco muttered under his breath, making Hermione giggle beside him.

“Shove it,” Theo replied, turning his head just slightly, “ _ lovebirds.” _

*

“Theo,” Draco said, motioning for his friend to come and join him, “do you have any more of that potion?”

“The enhanced Murtlap essence?” Theo answered, raising a questioning eyebrow as Draco nodded. 

Draco knew Theo would be curious, he hadn’t needed the potion since he’d been marked, but as they neared the end of the school year Draco felt like he needed  _ something _ to get him through. 

“I’m due to see my friend next week,” Theo offered, settling into the seat beside Draco and resting his feet on the low table in front of them, “I can get you a couple of vials?”

“Ten,” Draco said quickly, throwing Theo the required Galleons for such a purchase.

“Surely you don’t need—”

“I may not need, but I want,” Draco continued, “I won’t take them all, I just want to know I have them.”

“Draco, I—”

“If you don’t want to get them, fine,” Draco snapped, grabbing for the Galleons as Theo snatched them from his reach, “I can ask someone else.”

“I’m not having you take subpar potions, Draco,” Theo scolded, really looking at his friend, “I’ll get the ten, but I’m keeping five.”

“Thank you,” Draco breathed, relaxing back into the chair, telling himself as he did so that he didn’t need them. He wasn’t dependent on some potion. 

*

“Hermione,” Ginny asked, one quiet day in the common room, “what’s going on between you and Draco?”

“Hmm?” Hermione questioned, not having heard Ginny.

“You and Draco,” Ginny pressed, tugging away Hermione’s essay so she would answer her, “what’s going on there?”

Hermione laughed, “absolutely nothing,” she assured her friend, “I really don’t understand why everyone is so convinced something is going on.”

“You two just seem to get on really well…”

“You mean like Harry, Ron and I do?”

“I guess, but you and Draco are different, somehow.”

“Because he was an insufferable git for years?”

“No,” Ginny laughed, recalling just how often the trio had ranted about Malfoy back in the day, “it’s like you two just operate on the same level.”

“We do have more in common than I anticipated,” Hermione pondered, tugging her essay back.

“Would you ever want to take that to the next level?”

“What next level?”

“Would you date him?”

Now it was Hermione’s turn to laugh, “I wouldn’t date Draco, no.”

“And why not?”

“I just don’t see him that way,” Hermione shrugged, turning the page in her textbook so she could correctly reference her proposal. “Just like I don’t see Ron that way anymore, whatever was between Ron and I fizzled out before it could even start.”

“You and Ron never had any chemistry.”

“And Draco and I do?”

“Yeah, tons of it…”

*

“Ssshh! They’ll see us!” a fourth year girl whispered to her sister as they peeked around the corner.

“Stop making me laugh then,” the younger girl retorted, whipping her head back as she saw Draco move.

“What are they doing?” 

Risking a glance back at Hermione as she sat with Draco the girl replied, “it just looks like studying, they have their books out.”

“Let me see,” the fourth year said, swapping places with her sister and looking at the pair, “I think he’s going to kiss her!”

“No way!” the third year replied, risking a glance across the lawn.

“Are they still watching us?” Hermione asked Draco, keeping her eyes trained on the book in front of her.

“Yeah,” Draco answered, glancing at the ridiculous pair from the corner of his eye, “they think we’re about to kiss.”

Hermione laughed, dropping the book she was reading as she wiped a tear from her eye, “seriously?”

“Seriously,” Draco replied, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter as Hermione got a wicked gleam in her eye. For the last month, the rumours about the pair of them had been getting more and more ridiculous, instead of letting it get to them, they’d devised a little plan. 

Every time they became aware of watchful eyes, they’d play a prank on their unsuspecting viewers and today would be no exception. 

“Lean into me, Draco,” Hermione whispered, looking between him and the young girls, “pretend like you are going to kiss me and I’ll send a jet of water their way.”

Taking a breath, Draco leaned across Hermione and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his hand lingering there as he looked into her eyes.

“He’s doing it!” the younger girl practically screamed. 

Not wanting to miss  _ the  _ moment Dramione kissed, the two girls jumped out from their hiding place, camera poised and ready when they were suddenly struck with jets of water.

“Argh!” the older girl cried, jumping back into her sister as water dripped from her uniform. In the background she could hear hysterical laughter. 

“What did they do?” the younger girl asked, looking down at her own soggy uniform and her soaked sister.

“Nothing,” the older girl grumbled, “just soaked us.”

“Do you think, maybe, we shouldn’t be spying on them?”

“It’s not spying,” the older girl said dismissively, “we’re fact gathering, if they just told the truth and  _ admitted _ they’re dating we wouldn’t have to do this. Now, come on, we should go change before one of the Professors catches us.”

“Honestly,” Hermione muttered, picking her book back up and finding her place again, “do they have nothing better to do? Is our friendship that interesting?”

“Come on,” Draco chuckled, leaning back on the blanket and looking up at the sky, “how often were you out of bed, snooping around?”

“That’s different,” Hermione sniffed, avoiding Draco’s eye.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

*

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Draco asked as Hermione feverishly tore through her satchel.

“Nothing,” she snapped in reply, throwing her empty bag to the bench. She could have sworn she had another vial in her bag for tonight, but it wasn’t there.

“Liar,” Draco retorted, knowing full well what Hermione was missing and why she was so agitated.

“Excuse me?” 

Draco pulled the vial she had been so desperately searching for from his sleeve and unstoppered it, “smells like a mix of Calming Draught and Draught of Living Death, illegal aren’t they? Hermione?”

Hermione felt herself pale, despite the tentative friendship they had built over the last year, she wasn’t ready for anyone to know this secret.

“Give me that back.”

“Tell me why you have it.”

“No.”

“Who gave it to you?” Draco demanded, his voice taking on a deadly edge. If Theo had been selling her dangerous potions, there would be hell to pay.

Hermione scoffed, “no one  _ gave _ it to me.”

“You brewed it?”

“I didn’t say that— now, give. It. Back.” Hermione lunged for the vial but Draco was too quick.

“Do you have any idea how volatile this is?” Draco continued, not quite able to believe the Golden Girl had done something so stupid. 

“I’m perfectly aware of its ingredients,” Hermione sniffed, folding her arms across her chest.

It was then Draco really stopped to look at her. Although her eyes were bright, darting between the vial and his face, they looked bloodshot. Her complexion too was an odd shade, making her look healthy and ill at the same time. “How long have you been taking this?”

“I fail to see how that’s any of your business.”

“I’m trying to look out for you,” Draco gritted out, the witch was infuriating, “the reaction of the lavender and the sloth brain is enough to make you seriously ill. Unless of course you counter it with doxy blood but that only increases its potency and addictiveness. Tell me you haven’t been doing that.”

Hermione’s silence was answer enough, “fine. Don’t speak to me, but I’m not giving this back.” Before he could second guess himself, Draco stood and poured the potion swiftly out the window.

“You motherfu—” Hermione began, launching herself in Draco’s direction.

As the pair of them grappled, curious eyes peered at them through a gap in the library shelf, watching with keen interest. 

“How am I meant to sleep now?” Hermione asked, her closed fists pounding pathetically against Draco’s strong chest.

Ensnaring her wrists, Draco pulled Hermione to him, wrapping his free arm around her and holding her tightly. “We’ll find a better way.”

*

“Wake up,” Draco whispered, resting his hand on Hermine’s shoulder and giving her a gentle shake.

It had been two weeks since Draco had taken Hermione’s self brewed potions from her and learning to get to sleep naturally had been taking its toll. Her face was pressed against a textbook as it laid open on the library table, she could have sworn she was just getting closer to read the miniscule text but now she was blearily blinking her eyes open.

“I wasn’t asleep.”

“Care to explain those delightful little noises you made then?” Draco asked, cocking an eyebrow as Hermione blushed, “sounded an awful lot like snoring.”

“I do not snore,” Hermione huffed, sitting herself upright and stretching her back.

Draco laughed, “meaning you grunt like that when you’re awake?”

“Oh sod off.”

“I’m just trying to help,” Draco replied, closing his textbook and standing.

“I know, I just—” Hermione started, breaking off when a yawn overtook her, “I’m just tired.”

“That’s to be expected,” Draco said, packing his bag as he spoke, “your body is dependent on Valerian root to get to sleep. Now it doesn’t have it, you have to reset your sleep cycle.” 

Hermione buried her head in her hands. She’d only started brewing her own potions to overcome her nightmares but now she seemed to have created a whole new problem. 

*

_ “Draco and Hermione sitting in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g.” _

“Do they seriously have nothing better to do?” Hermione asked, scowling at the group of girls as they walked by. 

“Apparently not,” Draco replied as Theo caught up to them.

“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the carriage!” Theo sang, laughing wickedly as Draco gave him a solid shove. “What? Do you not like my singing?” 

“You shouldn’t be encouraging them, Theo,” Hermione stated, hoisting her bag higher onto her shoulder.

“Especially not when you  _ know _ there is nothing going on between us,” Draco added, taking Hermione’s bag from her and moving it to his own shoulder.

“Yeah…” Theo drawled, watching the exchange, “because every guy round here just randomly carries his female friend’s bag…” 

“Do you know how many books she carries?”

“Do you know there is such a thing as a feather light charm?”

“Stop it,” Hermione snapped, tugging her bag back from Draco, “the pair of you. What Draco is trying to say, Theo, is that you joining in does nothing to help the situation. You only add fuel to the flames.”

“What if I want to be the spark that  _ finally _ gets you two together?” Theo replied cheekily.

“Then you’re going to be waiting a very long time,” Hermione answered, levelling him with a glare that would have left Harry and Ron shaking.

“You forget,” Theo smiled, slinging his arms around both of their shoulders and pulling them together, “that I, above all else, am a snake. Your little looks don’t scare me. I’ve had years of Pansy trying to knock me down a peg or two, and she’s never done it. You, my little lion friend, are no different.”

Draco laughed, “apart from the fact that Granger could hex your bollocks off in the blink of an eye?”

“I would you know,” Hermione smiled, pulling her wand and taking aim, “you wouldn’t even see it coming.”

“Well,” Theo laughed, releasing them both quickly and stepping back, one eye trained on the point of Hermione’s wand, “I can see I’ve interrupted the pair of you, I best be off.”

“Bye Theo,” Hermione called sweetly to his hastily retreating back as Draco laughed.

“You’re much scarier than Pansy,” Draco said, starting to walk to their next class.

“I know,” Hermione agreed, bumping her elbow to Draco’s arm as they walked down the corridor. 

*

There were plenty of reminders from the war, littering the halls and classrooms of the school, but as the anniversary of the battle drew closer, Draco couldn’t ignore the marks. The scorch marks in the Entrance Hall, the missing bricks around the windows on the fourth floor, gouge marks on every banister…

Usually, his eyes just slid over the imperfections but now they screamed at him.  _ You let the Death Eaters into the castle… You didn’t stop them killing Dumbledore… You stood by and watched as the Carrows tortured those innocent kids… _

Draco gripped his forearm, a burning prickle echoed against his skin as students bustled past him in the corridor. He needed to get out of there.

Turning abruptly on his heel and forgetting all about his next class, Draco headed to the Revival/Rejuvenation rooms. His heart was pounding as he fought his way through the throng of students on their way to class, there were too many people.

Somehow, Draco ended up running, his legs pushing him to climb each flight of stairs quicker than the last. When he reached the fifth floor, he sprinted down the long corridor and threw open the heavy wooden door. 

His heart rate slowed as he stumbled into the common area, the pale blue calming him slightly as he looked between the doors to the private rooms. With only one vacant room, Draco quickly took it, locking and warding the room for privacy. 

He’d known the anniversary of the battle would be difficult, but he just hadn’t realised how much it would hurt. 

Every student seemed to be suffering in their own way. Classes were getting quieter, during meals you only heard the scrape of cutlery and the Slytherin common room had become a space for quiet drinking.

Draco threw himself onto the plush sofa, grabbing a pillow and holding it across his face to muffle his scream. He had never been taught how to handle extreme emotions, everything stayed behind the Malfoy mask. To let anything show was to be weak. 

Chucking the pillow to the side Draco sat up and grabbed his satchel. It was risky carrying around the potion he procured from Theo, but it made him feel better, knowing he always had it to hand. As his hand closed around the cool vial, Draco shot another look at the door, he knew he’d just warded it but he didn’t want to get caught. 

Taking the stopper between his teeth, Draco tugged it and spat it to the floor. Not giving himself the opportunity to think, Draco pressed the vial to his lips and tipped his head back, savouring the feel of the potion as it slid down his throat. 

It only took a minute for it to hit his system but when it did, Draco felt his body sag and relax. He vanished the now empty vial with a flick of his wrist before falling back into the soft cushions.  _ Sweet absolution _ .

His heart returned to its normal pace, his mind slowed and filled with a blissful emptiness and the tingling burn from his Dark Mark vanished. 

This was why he needed the potions, when everything became too much, the potion simply took it away.

*

Hermione watched dawn rise on the second of May in all its blinding glory. Vibrant reds turning to deep pinks which gave way to fiery oranges as the sun crested the horizon. 

Sleep had evaded her the prior night and from the tossing and turning of her dorm mates, Hermione knew she wasn’t alone. It didn’t stop Hermione creeping out of the dorm just past midnight and down into the common room though. 

Nor did it stop her leaving the tower and wandering the halls. 

The echo of her uneven footsteps kept her company as she meandered along corridor after corridor, paying no mind to where her feet led her. 

Hermione was lost in the past as she climbed another set of stairs. A full year had passed since she, Harry and Ron had returned to the school, haggard from their escape from Gringotts yet somehow filled with the resolve to end Voldemort. 

Had she known back then that they were about to embark on the longest night of her life, Hermione might have encouraged them to take a step back, tell someone,  _ anyone _ , what they were about to start.

So many lives had been lost that night because there simply wasn’t enough time. As it always did, the image of Colin Creevy’s body flashed into her mind. All of the deaths from that night hurt, the pain etched into her very bones making them so heavy sometimes she struggled to move but Colin? Colin shouldn’t have been in the castle. 

She wasn’t sure when she had started crying but as her tears trailed down her face, Hermione paused her meanderings, looking out through the window and up at the moon.

Had the sky been this clear last year? The stars twinkling above them as they fought for their lives? Had new stars joined the constellations as her classmates had fallen to not rise again?

Hermione sniffed, wiping her nose on her pyjama sleeve as she walked away. To her right, a door creaked open, startling Hermione enough to have her reaching for the wand which wasn’t there.

“Easy, Granger,” a voice said as the face materialised through the gloom.

“Theo?” Hermione whispered, stepping forward and rubbing the tears from her face, “what are you doing?”

“Drinking,” Theo answered simply, opening the door wider so Hermione could see in. Assembled loosely around a roaring fire were Draco, Blaise and Pansy, “care to join?”

Hermione dithered at the doorway until Draco’s voice called out, “get in here, Granger.”

Theo stood back, waving Hermione into the room and closing the door behind her as she stepped over the threshold. Matching her strides to Theo’s, Hermione approached the group warily before situating herself in the only empty seat next to Draco.

“Firewhisky?” Blaise offered, summoning the bottle and conjuring an extra glass.

“Please,” Hermione answered, bringing her knees up to her chest as the glass filled itself and floated over to her. 

“To surviving the first year,” Pansy said, her voice firm as she took her drink. 

As the boys repeated Pansy’s words and knocked back their own drinks, Hermione pondered Pansy’s statement. They had survived the first year, it had been difficult, full of a kind of pain Hermione hadn’t expected when she’d first returned to the castle and yet she’d done it.

Lifting her own glass to her lips, Hermione took a sip of the Firewhisky, grimacing as it burned her throat.

“You’ll get used to it,” Draco teased from beside her, nudging her gently with his elbow.

“Yeah, I suppose I will,” Hermione answered softly, taking another sip of her drink. 


End file.
